CRIS ZIM! THE DISASTER CONTINUES GOTHAM? I BARELY KNEW 'IM!
by tusitalabruni
Summary: The despicable Cris Zim, after having destroyed Star Trek TNG, Justified, Dexter and the Ghostbusters, has turned his horrible eyes upon Gotham. What could possibly go wrong?


CRIS ZIM!

THE DISASTER CONTINUES

GOTHAM? I BARELY KNEW 'IM!

After the humiliation of New York, Zim went all the way to Gotham City to a rundown bar on the east side of town. It was full of shady people who probably stole drinks instead of paying for them. Zim took a seat at the bar and waited for the portly bartender to notice him. In the meantime he looked for chicks. There were plenty, but they all looked sleazy. He wouldn't stick Bruni's dick in any of them.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"Whiskey," Zim said. "Lots of it."

"What kind?"

Zim let out a tremendous sigh. He checked his wallet and saw it was looking a bit thin. "Well whiskey."

"You got it." The bartender plunked a glass down and poured from a bottle of stuff Zim had never heard of before. "Say when, buddy."

Zim waited until the glass was almost filled to the tippy-top. "When."

The bartender whistled. "Must be a woman, huh?"

"What?"

"Whatever problem you're having. I'll bet it's got something to do with a woman."

"Ain't that the fucking truth," Zim said. He downed his glass in one go and coughed up what seemed to be visible fumes. "Dammit!" He continued hacking his lungs up, wondering how the hell Bruni managed to do this all the time.

"Here's another one," the bartender said. "On the house." He poured an identical drink and went away.

Zim decided to nurse this one. The first sip made him cringe, but the rest of it smoothed out, and he was able to take his time.

The front door opened, and in stepped the hottest chick Zim had seen in a looooooong time. She was supermodel hot. Not even Deanna Troi could have competed. And she barely wore anything. The skimpy outfit was probably something she would wear while on the catwalk. She headed directly for the bartender.

"Harvey," she said.

"Well, if it isn't Barbara Keen. What have I done to deserve you walking into my bar?"

"You know who I'm looking for, Harvey. Where is he?"

Harvey picked up a glass and pretended to clean it. "Jim Gordon wants nothing to do with you, don't you get that? Ever since you became a crime boss, you've been out of your fucking mind. You're lucky he doesn't shoot you down like a rabid dog."

"You shouldn't talk like that to a lady," Zim said. He felt his chest swell. It felt good to be a white knight.

"Don't get involved with this," Harvey said. "You know what's best for you, you'll finish your drink and get out."

"Aw," Barbara said. "Look at him. He's cute, kind of like a kicked puppy."

"Get out, kid," Harvey said. "You don't know what you're messing with."

Zim ignored him. He sidled up to the bar next to Barbara. "Buy you a drink?"

Barbara offered him a scary smile, kind of like a wolf's, and her eyes practically rolled in their sockets. "Yes, please."

"Whatever she wants, bartender," Zim said.

Harvey sighed. He didn't even need to ask Barbara what she wanted. He plunked a cocktail down in front of her and walked away. She took a dainty sip. "Thank you, Mr. . ."

"Cris Zim. You can call me Cris."

"Thank you, Zim. Do you come to Harvey's place often?"

"No, I'm kind of new in town. Just passing through."

"It's for the best. Gotham can be a . . . dangerous place." She winked at him.

_I'm gonna score_! Zim thought. He said, "Yeah, I was just passing through New York when I met these three chicks who want to run a business busting ghosts . . ."

Fast forward through one life story, and . . .

". . . and that is how I beat Final Fantasy the last time."

Barbara, who had been yawning and rolling her eyes, finally looked back at Zim. "You just don't shut the fuck up, do you, Mr. Zim?"

"What do you mean?" Zim asked.

"Harvey! Get over here!"

"So, do you want to get out of here?" Zim asked. "I know this place—"

Barbara reached over the bar and grabbed Harvey's shirt, dragging him across the surface. She planted a big ol' kiss on his mouth and made sure Zim saw her tongue slide in. She then let Harvey fall back so she could stare at Zim, a smirk on her face.

"Goddammit!" Zim roared. He threw down his glass and stormed out of the bar. Not fast enough, unfortunately. He managed to catch Harvey saying something.

"You must have really hated that guy to kiss me like that."

"Don't get any ideas," Barbara said.

"If I did, I'd have to check myself into Arkham."

Just as Zim stepped outside, it started to rain. He had no umbrella or anything, not even a hoodie. He cursed under his breath as he stalked down the sidewalk toward the el station. He found some cover and examined the schedule. He was in luck for a change. The next train to Union Central was coming in less than five minutes.

The train was late. Zim grumbled about it as he got onboard and looked around for a seat. There was only one guy in here, so he got a seat as far away from him as possible. As the train moved, the man started to moan, his head back. His arm was moving pretty rapidly. Zim realized, with absolute horror, that this man was furiously masturbating.

Zim groaned and stood. No wonder this guy was alone in here. Zim went to move back to another car. Then he saw that he was in the last car. To get away from this guy, he had to move past him. Fuck!

He forced himself to look directly ahead, to pretend that this guy didn't exist. He locked onto the door and didn't dare move his gaze from it. Slowly he moved forward and could sense himself getting closer to the mastur . . . NO! There was no masturbating man there. No one there. No one—

"Ahhhhhh!" the man moaned. "I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!"

This startled Zim so badly he looked at the man just as he ejaculated all over himself. "GAH!" Zim shrieked. He ran to the door and into the next car, his heart thumping, his lungs wheezing. Oh God! He'd watched another man cum. Did that make him gay now?

He caught his breath and looked around this new car. Most of the people here sat at the front end . . . because there was another masturbator sitting in the back. Zim looked down, horrified. How could this be? For a moment their eyes locked, and the new masturbator moved his fist quicker, drooling slightly from the corner of his mouth.

"What the fuck?" Zim marched away, past all the people and into a new car which would hopefully not contain a third masturbator.

Nope. No one here jerking off in public. Just a few women scattered about. There was a very hot chick, so he decided to sit across the aisle from her.

How could all of these people ignore the masturbating guy? If this had happened back home there would be a half-dozen cops on him. And two guys jerking it in public? That's crazy! Unless . . .

What if it was allowed? What if that was why no one was doing anything about it?

Zim looked across the aisle at the hot chick. She looked at her phone and didn't seem to be aware of his presence.

Hm.

He unbuttoned the front of his pants and pushed his boxers down. His dick jumped out half-hard. He glanced over to the hot chick. She hadn't noticed yet. He slowly started jerking off so as not to draw attention to himself.

He really got into the groove of it, completely forgetting where he was. He closed his eyes, thinking about all the women he'd tried to bang over the course of his life. Then he remembered about the el and looked around, seeing if anyone had noticed him.

The hot chick had put a hand up on the side of her face, shielding her sight so she wouldn't have to look at Zim. With her other hand she picked up her belongings. In a couple of seconds, she stood and rushed forward into the next car.

Zim tried to finish before she left, but he couldn't do it. He knew himself. He had to take his time. He got one look at her butt before she disappeared.

Zim let out a tremendous sigh and wondered if it was worth continuing now. He might as well, so he got back into his groove.

The front door of the car slammed open, and a weird looking guy with a giant grin on his face jumped in, laughing like a loon as his crazy green hair swayed with every movement. He ran down the aisle and looked down at Zim's dick.

"Teeny peener!" the man cried between laughs. Then he continued running down the aisle.

"Asshole," Zim said. He hated it when gay dudes checked him out.

Another man ran through the door and after the first guy. He wore a black suit of armor and a mask over most of his face. He screeched to a halt when he saw what Zim was doing.

"Put that away!" he roared.

"Stop looking at my junk!" Zim yelled.

The masked man grabbed Zim's shirt and hauled him out of his seat. He flipped Zim over to the floor and onto his back.

"Ow!" Zim yelled.

The masked man turned Zim over and zip-tied his arms behind his back. "Don't go anywhere." And he ran after the other guy.

"Why does this shit always happen to me?!" Zim yelled. Then he remembered that the front of his pants was still open, and his dick—now limp as a sock—hung out, smushed against the filthy floor of the el. He hoped he didn't catch anything from this.

After a few minutes, the man came back without the guy he was chasing. "At least tonight isn't a total loss," he said.

"Let me go!" Zim yelled. "You have no right!"

"And you have no right to jerk off on the el," the man said. Except . . . now his voice didn't sound so deep. Holy shit, this wasn't a man! He was at best 18 years old!

"You're just a kid," Zim said. "You can't do shit."

"I'm just a kid who caught a weeny wagger." He punched Zim in the jaw, knocking him out completely.

When he woke up, he found himself in a jail cell with a bunch of other guys. Some of them looked like real weirdos, dressed funny. One guy even had a top hat and kept fooling with a watch on a chain. There was another dude with emo hair and a horrible limp. Yet another was a beefy dude with a giant hammer for a hand.

Zim looked down, relieved to discover that his dick no longer hung from the front of his pants. He was also glad to not be zip-tied anymore. He looked at the guy with the hammer hand. "Where am I?"

"GCPD."

"Great."

"Cris Zim!" an officer called out.

"Over here," Zim said.

"Good news. Someone posted your bail." The cop opened the cage and let Zim out.

"Who?" He didn't know anyone in Gotham. There had to be a mistake. But it was a mistake he was definitely going to take advantage of.

"This way." The cop led him to a large desk, where he had to sign some papers. Zim got his copy and the cop pointed to the door.

Zim stepped outside, eager to get the fuck out of Gotham. He didn't care where, just anywhere else. However, standing just outside the door were two men. One was a very muscular black dude and the other was a slightly pudgy white guy with a very stylish hat.

"Cris Zim," the man with the hat said. "How nice to finally make your acquaintance. I'm a huge fan of your work."

Zim didn't know what any of this was about. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "Of course. How rude of me. It reminds me of that time in Moldovia. There was a very bad man, and when I neglected to introduce myself, he threatened to nail this hat to my head. Very Vlad Tepes of him. He was an extraordinarily humorous man, which makes me sad that I had to kill him. Anyway, nice to meet you, Zim. My name is Raymond Reddington."

CRIS ZIM WILL RETURN . . . UNFORTUNATELY.


End file.
